Somehow, this January has already felt like February, longest month of the year. The one that drags on without respite as we tire of the cold and tire of the dark and even tire of the snow if it comes too often. The school weeks have scrambled into disorder in the face of snow–late openings or closings, layers of ice, sleet, snow, more ice. Nothing piling too deep or lasting too long, just interrupting, importuning. So I turn to summer and recall warmer days. A walk on the far side of Great Falls. Sun’s gold igniting the green, emblazoning the whiteness of a web. Rain is due in tonight, but I bask in sunshine in my mind.